


Going Home is Different from Coming Back

by Hornet394



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Gen, Liverpool F.C.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hornet394/pseuds/Hornet394
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Steven Gerrard's charity match, everything's the same and everything's so different but no matter what, he's back where he belongs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Home is Different from Coming Back

90 minutes pass by, sometimes like a jackrabbit dashing frantically through the undergrowth, sometimes as a dead man dragging himself out of quicksand. It never moves in the same way Stevie's internal clock does, turning around and up and down until all he felt was the burning in his lungs and the ball under his feet. Today, 90 minutes pass by like a summer breeze, lifting hearts and spirits with her gentle caresses. Sweat dripping down the side of his cheek, legs burning with the exertion of strength and power. It's almost like 16 years ago when he was young and exuberant and unstoppable. He still is.

He's not in red but it's ok - he wears the black like an armour of pride because it doesn't matter what he's playing in, because no matter what, he's still in Anfield and he's still in Liverpool and he's still playing for the team he loves and will never move on from.

Xabi's beside him, the Basque's ever strong presence soothing him, and he can feel the confetti all around them and the weight of the trophy in his hands. It's Istanbul all over again and everything's red and gold and everyone's on the top of the world. He wants Xabi to come back, come back to Anfield and come back to Liverpool but if Xabi really did, Stevie would have already been gone.

It feels a tad bit strange though - playing against Carra and all those familiar faces, but he hears nothing but the endless cheers of Scousers and You'll Never Walk Alone and it's all worth it, it reminds him of why he fell in love with football, the adrenaline and the excitement, the unpredictability and the pride of wearing your crest on your chest, names going down in legend with glory and honour.

They don't talk about the tears and the frustration, the physical and the mental pain at limping off the pitch, the humiliation at being carried away on the stretcher, and the most terrible thing of all, the burden of an entire club, of an entire city, of an entire nation and all its people resting on his shoulders with the band around his arm, tightening and flexing with every stride and every lunge of powerful muscles and raw energy thrumming through the air.

He has the same armband right here, now, but somehow it feels different as he sends the ball soaring overhead, pivoting towards Thierry's expectant gaze. John comes up from the back as Mario advances, and Stevie had never felt so free before in his 15 years of football, save the first time he was sent on and felt grass underneath his shoes and the curious but encouraging chants of Anfield.

When Xabi's taken off he receives a hero's welcome, and it's almost like he never left. But he did and this is the last time Stevie will ever play with him again in the place where they became the best of the best. They don't talk about it anymore, because Stevie couldn't leave and Xabi couldn't not leave, and why talk about a situation that's not going anywhere?

Then Fernando and Luis makes a saviour's comeback and it's a bit strange to see Nando with blonde hair, but he's still the same as he was with the same exuberance for goals and the same passion he had showed Stevie then, and Stevie has never been so grateful of the people he calls friends as he is now. 

The ball stops under his feet as he steadies himself, allowing the roaring of the crowd to fill his veins and his mind. His former comrades are around him, in black or in white, or on the bench, or even up in the spectators' stands, watching it from home. Steven Gerrard, Captain Fantastic, ceased to exist, instead he was that little boy again, exhilaration and excitement in every step he took. Whatever his year will turn out to be, that is then and this is now. He takes in a huge breath and looks up at the man standing between him and the goal. He steadies himself and delivers a powerful kick, the side of his boot knocking against the ball. 

This is what home feels like, he realizes.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically my way of dealing with the feels elicited from the match and after nando's instagram post, and compensating for the lack of fic in January.
> 
> A United fan but Stevie means so much to me, he's the one who defines our generation of football and I'm still torn between the "he's going to have a happier life is US" and "What do you mean he's leaving us" stage. My feels attacked me this morning a few hours after the match and this came.


End file.
